


Don't Forget About Me Please

by apple9131999



Series: The States of America [10]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: American Civil War, Betrayal, Cecession, Dysfunctional Family, Historical Hetalia, Rascism, mute character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6716050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple9131999/pseuds/apple9131999
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thought of Louisiana's immediate smile</p>
<p>He thought of Missouri holding Maine's hand...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Forget About Me Please

_April 14, 1861- Little Rock, Arkansas_

* * *

He was silent as he waited in the office he had been given years ago. Or rather, Alfred had threatened his governor into giving him. The table was dusty and cracked, chipped and wobbled on one side so his writing looked sloppy.

He wrote from home most of these days anyhow.

He rubbed his thumb over the knuckles on his other hand, pressing hard on the calluses on his fingers.

Missouri and Maine had been holding hands during their parade last month. Did either of them have calluses the other could feel? Why didn’t Missouri want to hold his hand- they were closer to each other than Missouri was to _Maine_. The free-state to Missouri’s slave-state. It was absurd that they would hold hands as though drawing support from each other. They were nothing alike- Maine was pale as snow and Missouri was dark as the coal that was stuck in the toes of their stockings at Christmas. Maine was the pampered princess of the North. Missouri…Missouri…-

She was his sister before anything, and if she was upset about Louisiana, then she should have told him because she had been the first companion with Louisiana and Louisiana had just left all of them without so much as a parting glance. And Mississippi. And Texas. And…And…-

Those were his border states now and he should get at least a little sympathy from someone, but the one who should be paying attention to him is turning to look up North.

He was scared, goddamit. He had seen Louisiana and Mississippi and Texas when they fought the Mexicans. He was _terrified_. He was right next to them and if they…if they…-

He had _the Mississippi River_. He’d be targeted from all of them, from _either_ side. He wasn’t safe.

He’d walked next to Michigan during their parade. He’d wanted so badly to reach out to take her hand, feel the secure warmth and heat from her tanned hand. But she was watching Illinois ahead of her like a hawk and only glancing to her right to where there was a gaping space in their steps. She had only looked at him when he’d stumbled over a crack in the road and the loathing jeers from the crowd beside him.

He got it, he really did. He was the second colored person after three white people. And while Alfred never actually admitted to hating him, his people still showed their apathy.

He had resolved not to move his gaze from the back of Indiana’s red hair.

The red of his hair looked like blood the more he looked.

* * *

_April 18, 1861- Little Rock, Arkansas_

* * *

He felt the nudge on the edge of his conscience as he left the meeting with his governor. He paused in his step and stepped closer to the wall, searching his mind from where the nudge was from.

_South._

He pressed a flat hand against the cream colored walls, the difference of the two shades striking and he lost his attention for a moment as he stared at his hand. But where in the South? And what was happening? Alfred would tell him if he was coming to visit him- at least by stopping in Little Rock for a quick chat before rooting around in his land.

_Junction City._

He almost didn’t go. He almost didn’t take that step. He felt nauseous, but resolved to himself that he would stay on his land. He’d be safe.

* * *

_Junction City, Arkansas_

* * *

He smoothed the dirt off of his overalls as he wandered through the town, keeping head down as he followed the sensation. He’d yet to place it. It was a difficult thing to do, since not much of his family ever visited him.

It wasn’t Missouri, that much he could tell.

He followed the sensation wall the way to the city limits and paused, jerking his head up.

He could see Louisiana.

He could also see _Louisiana._

Louisiana was grinning across the expanse between the two of them from his Junction City. “Gabriel!”

Arkansas pulled up short and stared at Louisiana with a deep frown. He fumbled for the clicker Missouri had broken off of a Morse machine years ago- much to the annoyance of Rhode Island.

“What d-?” he managed before Louisiana started speaking again.

“How are you, pal? Been thinking about seceding.”

Arkansas flushed hotly. “No,” he clicked angrily. Long short, long long long. He used that one the most.

Louisiana laughed, tossing his head back in mirth, the sun shining on the sweat on his face and neck. Arkansas’s stomach sank. Louisiana knew he’d lied. “Well, we just got Virginia, and I was kinda hoping that after the Fort Sumter, you’d be next. Don’t tell me that you want to listen to the Railsplitter sitting in the Oval Office. I mean, why would you follow a president that you didn’t elect afterall?”

“I ca-” he was cut off again. I can’t vote, he wanted to say, and you can’t either.

“And he’s going to get rid of our slaves and our power-”

“We are-” he was cut off again, but before Louisiana could get more than one syllable out, Arkansas grunted deep in his chest and stamped a foot, garnering the older boy’s attention.

“What power?” he clicked out.

Louisiana looked surprised for a moment, but then recovered and composed himself. “The power that Alfred has been holding out on us. The one that Alex told me about- the dizzying rush of power of being powerful than a silly little national government.”

Arkansas didn’t say anything to that and Louisiana’s excited look dampered as he realized that he wasn’t going to respond.

“Just...think about what I said, please?” he begged just before he turned and stepped away, disappearing into the cityscape of Junction City, Louisiana.

Arkansas stayed there for a long moment before turning away from the Louisiana countryside and facing the buildings of his own Junction City.

* * *

He thought about a lot of things in the next few weeks.

He thought about watching Louisiana and Alabama dancing at the Christmas party with the president some-odd years ago. He thought about Missouri spinning in his arms around the dance floor, her cheeks darkened with wine. He thought of South Carolina and his northern counterpart playing St. Nick the year he was born.

He thought about holding baby Wisconsin, and picking Kansas up outside of the family home in D.C., a bruise blooming across the child’s knee. He remembered the years that Connecticut and Rhode Island would argue about decorating the house and what church service they were going to go to this year (it never mattered _who _'won' the argument, they went to a Congregational service on the Eve and the Baptist service on the Day of Christmas, the argument was purely tradition as both sides encouraged the other children to support them. Rhode Island always got the southern states while Connecticut got the northerners).__

He thought of Louisiana’s immediate smile when the latter had spotted him in Junction City.

He thought of Missouri holding Maine’s hand instead of his.

* * *

_May 6, 1861- Junction City, Louisiana_

* * *

He stepped over the boundary just when the motion was passed with his people, hands shoved into the pockets of his overalls as he waited on the outskirts of the city for Louisiana.

The smile he got when Louisiana appeared was blinding.

It was almost as bright as Missouri’s used to be.


End file.
